


To steal a King's Heart

by Lakritzwolf



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bottom Thorin, M/M, Top Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3440561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbits don't bear grudges. And even a King sometimes needs to shed the load of responsibility. The smell of pipe weed and the chill of the night and one thing leading to another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To steal a King's Heart

Peace had come to the Mountain at last, and where once only the desolation of Smaug had been, new life had begun to spring. Speckles of green showed here and there, even if the snow hadn’t fully melted yet.

Sitting on the balcony above the gates Bilbo enjoyed the cool, fresh night air after spending a day in the dim darkness of Erebor’s halls. He watched the smoke of his pipe curl up into the starlit infinity above and reflected on what lay behind him and what would lie ahead. Not for the first time he wondered how he could ever go back to being a respectable hobbit after this adventure.

He had seen sights most hobbits hadn’t even heard about, had done things that even the brashest Took would have shuddered to think of. Life in Bag End suddenly seemed very far away, and for some strange reason, very unappealing to him.

He shuddered slightly and thought to himself that maybe it was time to go back inside, find his chamber and the makeshift bed inside and try to get some warmth back into his body. But he loved this, these quiet hours late in the evening when he watched the stars, so clear and bright, alone with his thoughts and his pipe weed.

Or maybe not as alone as usual, he thought as he heard steps coming up the stairs. 

“My apologies, Master Baggins.” Thorin’s low rumble made Bilbo jump up.  
“What for?”  
“For disturbing your peace.” The King under the Mountain stepped onto the balcony, hands folded behind his back, and even in the darkness his eyes shone bright. “I gather you would like to be alone if you make such an effort in coming up here.”

“What?” Bilbo pursed his lips and then shook his head. “No. No, not at all. I mean, you don’t disturb me at all, your majesty.”  
“Please.” Thorin’s voice sounded slightly pained. “Thorin will do. If you like.”

Bilbo sat down on the piece of broken masonry again and shuffled a little to the side to make room for Thorin. It had only been two weeks since he had left his sickbed after having been almost fatally wounded, had been fighting to get well through most of the winter now. Bilbo was sure that standing in the cold wouldn’t do him good.

It was clear that Thorin was not yet fully healed by the slow and strenuous move with which he sat down. The long time in bed had taken a lot out of him.

Bilbo brought his pipe back to his lips and inhaled deeply, watching the cloud curl upwards.

“I never thought I would say this,” Thorin began, his voice low. “But I’m going to miss this.”  
Bilbo blinked and took the pipe out of his mouth. “Wh… what? Miss what?”  
Thorin chuckled under his breath. “The smell of your pipe weed, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo lifted his eyebrows as he stared at his pipe, confusing twisting his features for a second. Then he reached into his pocket and offered Thorin his tobacco pouch. “Care for a pipe full yourself?”  
Smiling, Thorin reached into his vest and produced his own pipe before taking the offered pouch. “Don’t mind if I do, Master Hobbit.”

They sat in silence and smoked for a while, the clouds of their smoke rising up, coiling and curling once they had risen above the shelter of the balcony and into the wind. 

Bilbo shivered again but felt reluctant to leave. It had been a long time since he had seen Thorin so relaxed and at peace, and he wanted to savour the moment. A little chill was nothing that bothered him after what he had been through during the last months.

Thorin cast him a look as he noticed the shiver, but didn’t comment on it. Bilbo was wearing his cloak, after all, so he had no reason to reprimand him for not being properly dressed. Huddled in his cloak and lost in his thoughts Bilbo noticed Thorin’s movement first when the dwarf beside him shrugged the heavy fur vest off his shoulders and gently placed it around Bilbo’s own. 

Bilbo gave Thorin a look of puzzlement, but Thorin’s smile made him retreat deeper into the fur and relish the warmth. “Thanks,” he said with a very small voice.

“It’s the least I can do after everything,” Thorin gave back, and Bilbo didn’t fail to notice the pang of pain in his voice.  
“What…”  
“I owe you my life twice over, Master Hobbit.” Thorin now turned his head and met his eyes. “You saved me from Azog and again, on the battlefield. Without you, our journey would have ended in defeat. You saved us from trolls and spiders, freed us from the dungeons of Mirkwood and reclaimed the Arkenstone from a dragon’s hoard still guarded by the dragon himself.” He took a deep, hoarse breath. “And I repaid you with distrust and threatening to end your life.”

“Yes, but… No, I mean…” Bilbo straightened up and glared at Thorin from his nest of fur. “You weren’t yourself, Thorin. That was the dragon sickness acting and talking, not you.”  
“Was it?” Thorin frowned. “Is that how you want to remember it?”  
Bilbo managed a smile. “It is how I want to remember you, Thorin. As a dwarf of honour and courage. I am glad your sickness didn’t cost you your life. What happened between us was caused by that sickness and is forgiven and forgotten on my part.”

Thorin lifted one eyebrow. 

“No, really. I hate…” Bilbo gestured with his pipe. “…bearing grudges.”  
Thorin chuckled again. “You wouldn’t have made a very convincing dwarf.”  
“Under no circumstances.” Bilbo gave Thorin a lopsided smile. “But I do pride myself on being a proper hobbit. Or was, at least, before a horde of dwarves invaded my home and dragged me out onto an adventure that would make old Bullroarer’s hair rise.”

The two exchanged a glance and after a moment, a gentle laugh.

“I don’t remember dragging you, Master Hobbit.” Thorin was still chuckling. “If I recall correctly you came running after us.”  
“Yes…” Bilbo clamped his lips around the stem of his pipe. “Yes, I’m afraid that was the Took that broke free that moment.”

Bilbo leaned back into the fur and succeeded in blowing a large smoke ring. He and Thorin continued to smoke in silence for a long time, watching the stars and the clouds of pipe weed.

Bilbo blew another ring, and from beside him, another one appeared to match his. The two rings rose and drifted together to mingle into a single cloud.

Two heads slowly turned and their eyes locked into each other. Suddenly their faces were only inches apart, but before Bilbo, his heart racing, could even close his eyes, Thorin had suddenly pulled back and stood up with a grunt.

“Thorin?”

His hands folded behind his back, Thorin stared out over the balcony. “I’m sorry.” His voice was so low and hoarse it was hardly audible. “I had no right…”

Bilbo slowly got up, put his pipe down and the Took struggled for control. “Thorin.”

Thorin kept staring ahead, his shoulders hunched. Bilbo walked beside him and when Thorin still refused to look at him, he forcefully wiggled between him and the stone railing. “Thorin.”

His jaws tight, Thorin finally met Bilbo’s eyes again. 

“You have every right,” Bilbo said softly, and with a decisive movement, hopped onto the railing. Thorin jumped and from sheer reflex caught Bilbo by the hips to prevent him from falling. Bilbo smiled at him, being held by his hands when not so long ago those same hands had dangled him over the abyss accompanied by threats to end his life. 

Thorin realised this, too, and his breathing picked up speed as his eyes met Bilbo’s again.

“You have the only right,” Bilbo whispered. 

Thorin’s eyes went wide and his lips parted, and Bilbo leaned forward to claim those lips with his own. 

“That you would trust me ever again…” Thorin rasped as their lips parted again.  
“With my life,” Bilbo replied and threaded his hands into raven-black hair. 

With a small gasp Thorin leaned forward and bend Bilbo over backwards as he kissed him again, and the only thing between Bilbo and certain death were the two arms that crossed at his back. Thorin’s lips left his and grazed his jaw, his earlobe and wandered down his throat. Bilbo let his head fall back, dizzy both from vertigo and the kiss. 

“Do you really trust me?” Thorin whispered against the skin of Bilbo’s throat.  
Closing his eyes, Bilbo let go of Thorin’s shoulders. “I’ve never felt so safe in my life.”

Thorin pulled him up again and claimed his lips again with a sound that was almost a sob. Bilbo slung his arms and legs around Thorin, opening his lips to the hungry mouth that was hot upon his own. After what seemed like forever Bilbo had to let go of those lips for air and buried his face in the crook of Thorin’s neck. 

Before he realised what was happening Thorin had picked him up from the railing and carried him inside. Bilbo clung to him like a burdock and didn’t let go until Thorin settled him onto his own bed. He stood back, his eyes on the hobbit who propped himself onto his elbows, and slowly, began to undress.

Bilbo’s throat constricted as he watched Thorin laying his skin bare before him, watched every mark, every scar and every tattoo of dark blue ink as it was uncovered before his widening eyes. 

Having shed the last piece of clothing Thorin gave Bilbo a very pained and hesitating look. But when he realised Bilbo was watching him open-mouthed with flushed cheeks, a hesitant, almost shy smile crept onto his face. “You trust me with your life, Master Baggins. I trust you… with me.”

Bilbo’s throat was too dry to speak; all he could do was open his arms to Thorin and embrace him as he climbed into the bed. 

Hot, wet and hungry kisses passed between them as Thorin helped Bilbo out of his clothes, chuckling occasionally at the hobbit’s impatience to get rid of each item of wardrobe.

After being finally skin to skin, hot lips on lips and hands roaming each other’s bodies, Bilbo suddenly realised that Thorin had rolled onto his back and pulled Bilbo on top of him. He couldn’t help himself, he had to see. Gently breaking the kiss, Bilbo straightened up, straddling Thorin’s hips, and opened his eyes.

He almost cried from the sheer beauty of the sight before him. Completely undone Thorin lay on his back, his lips swollen and still moist from kissing, his cheeks flushed, his hair tousled and spread out over the pillows, his usually so piercing blue eyes clouded with lust. 

“Bilbo…” The voice was husky and deep and made Bilbo’s stomach curl. Thorin extended a shaky hand to the nightstand and Bilbo spotted a small vial there.  
“Oil?”  
Thorin nodded, a small – embarrassed? – smile on his lips.  
“Did you plan this?”

Thorin chuckled. “No. I have it here in case I…” He licked his lips. “In case I want to indulge in private fantasies that I… that I never believed would come true.”  
“Fantasies?”

Thorin closed his eyes instead of an answer. Smiling to himself, Bilbo climbed from Thorin’s hips and reached for the vial of, as he discovered, unscented oil. He thoroughly applied it on his finger and sat between Thorin’s legs, pulling one knee up to lean against and to have better access. He pressed a kiss into the inside of the thigh as he gently teased the sensitive skin of Thorin’s most intimate spot and was rewarded with a hoarse moan. It was this sound that finally, fully unleashed his inner Took.

He pushed his finger inside and curled it, making Thorin almost yelp with the sensation. He added another finger.

“Master… Master Baggins…”  
“Back to Master Baggins, are we?” Bilbo pulled his fingers out and found himself enjoying Thorin’s flushed and desperate face. 

He gripped Thorin’s hips and to his surprise, the dwarf was only too easy to turn onto his belly. After pulling up Thorin’s hips, Bilbo applied some of the oil onto himself, his breathing hard and fast.

“Master Baggins, is it.” He pushed through the tight barrier into the heat of Thorin’s body. The dwarf howled and threw back his head, and Bilbo seized his chance and helped himself to a good fistful of his hair, pulling Thorin’s head back forcefully as he thrust again.

“A grocer, am I?”

Another thrust elicited a sharp cry from Thorin. 

“Who can neither fend…” _Thrust_  
“Or fight…” _Thrust_  
“For himself…” _Thrust_  
“A burden…”Another sharp thrust and Thorin cried out again. “Am I?”  
“No!”

Bilbo let go of Thorin’s hair and leaned forward, forcing his body still. He closed his hand around Thorin’s shoulders and drew them back, digging his nails into the skin and leaving eight long, red welts on top of every scar and tattoo. Thorin hissed sharply and pressed his head into the pillows.

“No? Should I stop?”  
“No! Bilbo…”  
Bilbo leaned forward again. “Do I hear Thorin Oakenshield beg?”  
“Bilbo… please…”

It was more than Bilbo could handle, even with his inner Took completely running wild. Two more thrusts brought him to the edge and the third one pushed him over. His cry mingled with Thorin’s and he finally collapsed onto the broad, strong back, panting heavily and wondering dimly if he would ever be able to look into Thorin’s face again.

With a cautious move he pulled himself away and sank onto the sheet beside Thorin who instantly cradled him in his arms. As they kissed, Bilbo’s hand found its way downward completely of his own accord and closed around Thorin’s trembling erection that had not yet been given any attention. 

Breathing heavily into their kisses Thorin bucked into Bilbo’s hand and with a few firm and gentle strokes, Bilbo had Thorin cry out again, a deep, drawn out sound of pure relief. Thorin kissed him again before he had even gotten his breath back, and Bilbo found that an utterly unravelled and needy Thorin was a sight and sensation to behold, one that he wouldn’t mind encountering again.

Their arms closed around each other they bathed in the warm afterglow of their lovemaking, Bilbo toying idly with the curls of Thorin’s chest as his head was bedded on his broad and muscular shoulder.

Thorin heaved a deep sigh and turned his head a little. “When will you be leaving?” he asked, his voice low and slightly husky from screaming.  
Bilbo felt himself smile against Thorin’s skin. “I don’t know. All of a sudden, I’m not in a hurry anymore.”  
Laughing softly under his breath, Thorin pressed his cheek against Bilbo’s forehead. “That’s a relief to hear.”

Bilbo still smiled to himself, but a question was burning in his mind that he simply had to ask. “Thorin…”  
“Hm?”  
“I can’t… I mean… You seemed to really enjoy what… I… was doing?”  
Thorin laughed again, more hearty this time. “What about it?”  
“Well, I honestly thought you’d be the one to take the reins.”  
“My dear Master Baggins…”  
“Nuh-uh. What did I tell you about that?”

Thorin snorted softly. “Bilbo, then.”  
“I insist.”  
“Will you let me answer your question?”  
“Just clearing up on formalities.”  
“Very well.” Another chuckle vibrated deeply in Thorin’s chest. “It is… shedding a burden.”  
“What kind of burden?”  
“The burden of control, of leadership, of responsibility. It feels… it is a relief.”

Bilbo pondered this for a while. “I understand,” he said softly.  
“Do you?”  
“Yes. Yes, I do. You have a lot on your shoulders, Thorin Oakenshield. I understand the need to shed this load once in a while.”  
“You, Master Burglar, understand a lot of things better than even I do.”

Now it was Bilbo’s turn to chuckle. “Do I now? And a burglar, am I? Not a grocer?”  
“Definitely more of a burglar than a grocer.” Thorin pulled him closer and leaned over him. “An expert burglar, I’d say.”  
“An expert?”

Thorin smiled warmly as he leaned in over Bilbo’s lips. “Who but a master burglar could steal a king’s heart?”

Bilbo smiled into their kiss and slung his hands around Thorin, burying his hands deeply into the thick, raven black hair.


End file.
